


Socks For Your Birthday Is Something That Can Actually Be So Personal

by DontOffendTheBees



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20 does not exist, Birthday Presents, Dean Winchester's Birthday, Domestic Bliss, Early Mornings, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, Jack Kline as God, M/M, Mentioned Sam/Eileen, Mornings, Socks, but also a smol bean and good son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:56:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28964265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontOffendTheBees/pseuds/DontOffendTheBees
Summary: Look, Dean knows people get excitable on birthdays.Kidsget excitable, jump on their parent’s (or long suffering big brother’s) beds at ass o’clock in the morning because they can’t wait to get started on a day that’s all about them. Dean gets it, hell, he thinks it’s cute, and in some ways he thinks it’s a damn good start to the day. Just two little problems:One, it’sDean’sbirthday, not the kid’s, and Dean is a grown ass man- all he wants for his birthday is sleep, and to roll out of bed no earlier than ten a.m.Two, the excitable kid jumping on his bed is a very,verytall three year old.In which Dean celebrates turning 42- and it actuallyisa celebration.
Relationships: Castiel & Jack Kline & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 18
Kudos: 113





	Socks For Your Birthday Is Something That Can Actually Be So Personal

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I’m jumping on the Dean’s birthday fic bandwagon don’t care it’s what he deserves <3
> 
> Cas is currently alive, human and with Dean, probably after a very romantic and dramatic rescue from the Empty, and Jack is god but he's being hands off so he has lots of time for family. Everyone's still living in the bunker rn but Dean and Cas are moving soon, Sam and Eileen don't appear in this fic but they're around and they're in love good for them <3
> 
> I wrote this today, so hopefully it's not too awkward or full of mistakes! Just wanted to show my appreciation for the boy, and write a little something inspired by a great pair of socks my friend showed me <3
> 
> Enjoy!

Look, Dean knows people get excitable on birthdays. _Kids_ get excitable, jump on their parent’s (or long suffering big brother’s) beds at ass o’clock in the morning because they can’t wait to get started on a day that’s all about them. Dean gets it, hell, he thinks it’s cute, and in some ways he thinks it’s a damn good start to the day. Just two little problems:

One, it’s _Dean’s_ birthday, not the kid’s, and Dean is a grown ass man- all he wants for his birthday is sleep, and to roll out of bed no earlier than ten a.m.

Two, the excitable kid jumping on his bed is a very, _very_ tall three year old.

Dean snorts awake violently, going for a gun he doesn’t keep under his pillow anymore, and when he doesn’t find it he props himself up on his elbows to look down the bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “...Jack?”

All five-foot-ten of his kid is camped out at the foot of the bed in his PJs, criss-cross applesauce, still wobbling from the rebound of colliding with the memory foam at full force. “Happy birthday, Dean!”

Next to Dean the covers shift and a dark, ruffled head of hair pops out, followed by a pair of groggily squinting blue eyes. Cas’ voice rumbles from under the blankets like aftershocks to Jack’s earthquake. “Jack… what time is it…?”

Jack proudly consults his Kermit the Frog watch. “Just after five!” His face falls. “Is it too early? I asked Sam if I should wait but he said I should just come in, he said it was ‘traditional’.”

Dean huffs out a laugh, running a hand over his face. Sam’s probably out on his morning run now, giggling to himself. “Well. He’s not wrong. Uh, kid, love the enthusiasm but I’m gonna need-”

“I brought you coffee!” Jack cuts in, pointing at the bedside table (or the cardboard box currently serving as one) and- huh, yeah, that’s a mug of coffee, still steaming. Probably made by Sam, since it’s in the mug he bought Dean as a joke a few weeks after he and Cas became ‘official’. The one that says ‘Mr. Right’; meaning Cas probably has the matching ‘Mrs. Always Right’ one waiting on his side of the bed.

Rolling his eyes, Dean grabs the mug and takes a scalding swig, groaning in appreciation. Sammy may be a smartass but he buys the good stuff. “Mmm… so you get any sleep at all, kid?” he grumbles.

Jack pauses and thinks a moment, brow wrinkling. “Yeah. A little. I was excited- can I give you my present now?”

“Yeah, just gimme a sec, I’m…” Dean blinks, catching up to the kid’s train of thought- and to the fact that he’s holding a small wrapped object in his hands. “Jack, you didn’t have to get me somethin’.”

“I wanted to!”

“He did,” Cas confirms drowsily, hauling himself upright enough to lean against Dean’s shoulder, yawning into it as he reaches for his own coffee. “We left no stone unturned at the mall.”

The mental image of that shopping trip is funny enough to crack through Dean’s grouchy morning sulk with a smirk. “Aww. You get me somethin’ too, Cas?” he teases.

Cas squints up at him, a smirk of his own tugging at his lips. “Yes. But it will have to wait until there aren’t children present.”

He follows _that_ tease up with an innocent, almost delicate sip of his coffee. Dean does the same, if only to counteract the sudden dryness of his mouth, and tries not to fixate on Cas’ thigh pressing against his own under the covers while their kid is still watching him like a puppy with a stick.

“Alright,” he rasps, giving Jack his (almost) undivided attention. “Hit me, kid.”

Jack frowns, tilts his head, and hesitantly punches Dean’s leg.

“...With the present.”

“Oh!” Jack brightens and lifts up the little bundle, and Dean holds out his hand for it- ‘bout half a second too late. Luckily it’s small and soft when it hits Dean in the friggin’ face.

He blinks. “...Thank you,” he deadpans, feeling the soft laugh that Cas is hiding in the crook of his neck.

Jack beams, oblivious. “These birthday traditions are fun.”

With another fortifying swig of coffee before he sets it aside, Dean picks up the package where it tumbled into his lap and gives it a once-over. Jack obviously wrapped it himself; the paper’s covered in little cartoon cowboy hats and cactuses, and the tape and ribbon is at about the level you’d expect from a three year old. Dean snorts, but he carefully unties it anyway. The tape is harder to work around and he says to hell with it and just tears into the paper with gusto, revealing soft grey fabric. He raises his eyebrows as it comes away completely, leaving in his hands a pair of socks covered in white, black and orange squiggles. “Oh, uh- cool.”

“Turn them over,” says Cas, tapping Dean’s wrist with his thumb.

Dean does, and bursts into laughter at the picture that comes into view; a little cartoon guy giving a big thumbs up, right under writing proudly proclaiming: ‘HERE COMES COOL DAD’.

“You like them?” asks Jack, wide eyed.

“I love ‘em, kid,” he grins, clapping Jack on the shoulder. “Thanks.”

Jack beams, pleased as punch, and out the corner of his eye Dean sees Cas give the kid a proud little smile and nod, and Dean stares down at his dumb socks and holy crap, he’s forty-two. He is forty-two, and his birthday gift isn’t something lethal or something scrounged from a gas station, it’s _socks_. Socks his kid spent a whole day picking out for him, socks he’s gonna wear lounging around indoors with his family, socks that are (hopefully) not gonna get drenched in blood or supernatural gunk.

He’s forty-two and sitting between two nerds who love him more than they should, and one of those nerds is his three year old kid and also a grown man and also God, and the other one is his best friend and the love of his life and a man and a former angel.

He’s forty-two and he isn’t settled, yet, his whole life is packed up ready to pick up and go, but he knows where it’s going next; to the place he and Cas have lined up, the house they’re fixing up together, where Jack’s gonna have his own room painted whatever colour he wants and Cas can keep bees or chickens or whatever makes him happy, so who the hell cares if right now whenever he or Cas need something it’s always at the bottom of the damn box?

He’s forty-two and for once his life is messy in real, human way, a _quiet_ way. It’s a happy kind of messy. He’s forty-freaking-two, and he’s _happy_. The next fixed date in his calendar is Sam and Eileen’s wedding, and the only impossible task he has to achieve before then is deciding what the hell would make a decent wedding present. The rest of it, the rest of his life is just stretching out in front of him, waiting for him to take it in his stride. No more end of the world, no more killing as his day job, wondering if tonight will be the night he goes down for good. Just potential- potential for long, slow, countless days of TV and catch with Jack, golf and arcades with Claire when she comes to visit. Days with Cas, to do whatever they want to do- build things together, nap together, bicker and and cook and fuck or hell, just do _nothing_ , if that’s what they wanna do.

He’s forty-two, he has a life, and he doesn’t have to live it for anyone but himself.

But he doesn’t have to live it _by_ himself.

Dean grins, chugs down the rest of his coffee, and throws the covers aside. “Rise and shine, angel,” he grins, planting a loud kiss on Cas’ scruffy cheek just because he can. “We’re doin’ something.”

“What are we doing?” asks Jack, bright and intrigued.

“No idea. Any suggestions?”

Cas takes a thoughtful sip of coffee, still half-asleep. “I believe, traditionally, that is a choice for the ‘birthday boy’ to make,” he says, fingers twitching to shape the air quotes around his coffee mug.

“Well, the birthday boy sure ain’t waiting round here for people to start singing,” he says. Sam’s probably already put in calls to whoever’s in the neighbourhood to show up for an ambush, and Dean’s down for seeing some friends but he wants to do this day _his_ way a little, first. He’ll submit to the mortifying ordeal of being singled out for affectionate humiliation once he’s clocked some time with Cas and the kid, doing something he wants to do. Something peaceful, relaxing, maybe something that gets them out into the fresh air...

He grins, swings his legs over the side of the bed, and starts pulling on his new socks. “Okay- Cool Dad says we’re goin’ fishing. Saddle up, boys!”

Jack grins and bolts away to get dressed, Cas stays put with a good-natured roll of his eyes looking like a sleepy, rumpled pigeon in a nest, and Dean can see the day- the _possibilities_ of it- unfolding in front of him.

Cas will probably take his sweet time getting out of bed, but once he does he’ll be ready to go in no time at all. Jack will come back fully dressed and clutching that dumb little portable radio shaped like a penguin he has, so that he and Cas can listen to their cheesy pop station at the lake while Dean pretends to bitch about their music taste- and Cas will complete the look by tucking a scarf around Jack’s neck because who says God can’t get a little chilly?

Maybe they’ll stay out by the lake all day, whiling away the hours just soaking up the air and each other, sunrise to sunset. Then they might come back here right away, eat with Sam and Eileen and whoever else they can rustle up, or maybe they’ll go grab dinner somewhere, or get take-out and check out that new drive-in movie theatre he’s been seeing flyers for. Maybe Jack will be hopped up on fresh air and soda and wide awake for the whole movie- or maybe he’ll doze off in the previews and Dean can stop pretending he isn’t more interested in looking at Cas than whatever dumb leftover Christmas flick is up on the screen.

Hell, maybe they’ll see a signpost for a circus on the way to the lake and toss that entire fishing game plan out the window anyway- why not, it’s their day and for now at least they don’t have Sam’s clownphobia to consider.

Whatever happens, happens.

Sure as hell feels good to look forward to it for a change.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading chums <3
> 
> If you like there's a [rebloggable tumblr version of this](https://dont-offend-the-bees.tumblr.com/post/641226206882185217/socks-for-your-birthday-is-something-that-can) (which also includes a link to the socks in question!), honestly any reblogs/comments would be appreciated, I know this isn't much but I don't often bother to type/format the things I write these days bc hand pain, and the like to reblog ratio lately has been especially discouraging. But this will probably be immediately buried under 50 more Dean birthday fics, so I'm managing my expectations somewhat xD
> 
> Happy Deanday, everyone! <333


End file.
